The Vendetta
by TV Manic 2
Summary: Sequel to 'The Collective' - The race is on to find the real culprit behind the attempted destruction of Atlantis and prevent them from trying again…but with our boys Earth-side, who is left to save Atlantis? Sheyla/All-around whumpage
1. Aftermath

**Stargate Atlantis -:- The Vendetta**

**Summary: **

The race is on to find the real culprit behind the attempted destruction of Atlantis and prevent them from trying again…but with our boys Earth-side, who is left to save Atlantis?

**Setting/Pairings:**

Same timeline as the Collective, so late season five with added Sheyla

**Genre/Rating:**

Suspense/Action/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Most likely whump all around cause I'm mean like that/T to be safe

**Disclaimer:**

Still don't own a damn thing – I have been trying though, but MGM's stopped taking my calls :P

**Author's Note(s):**

Woot! I am back with the sequel for my most popular fic yet – _The Collective_! (Thanks for the reviews, I must admit that I am still doing that happy dance…) If I am completely honest with you, I never _ever_ planned for the end of that fic to leave the massive question of who-_really-_dunnit? – actually, it was originally written as an accident and not an intentional act of sabotage. Hence why this has taken me so long to plan, I kinda had to come up with the subplot of the previous fic in order to write it into this one…if that makes _any _sense…

Warning: we do jump around in time again, but not quite on such a nit-picky scale as before, and the subtitles are pretty clear. If you followed _the __Collective_ this one is gonna be easy lol We are also jumping between galaxies as well, but you know who's where so that's pretty obvious too :P

But anyway – ignore me – let's get this fic started! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One -:- Aftermath<strong>

Lt. Col. John Sheppard stepped through the Stargate…and into hell.

At first he was too shocked to recognise what it was that he was seeing. Surely he had made a wrong turn…dialled the wrong address…this…this _couldn't_ be Atlantis…this just _couldn't_ be all that was left of his home.

The basic structure of the gate room had survived whatever had happened relatively well – it was still identifiable, and still a hundred or so storeys above sea level. The floor beneath his feet did not feel steady, and John got the distinct impression of being on a ship in high seas. There was no roof – the jumper bay was gone, and the glass windows at the top of the stairs no longer existed. Strong winds buffeted his frozen form as he stared in horror at the destruction before him.

What the hell had happened? No…this _wasn't_ happening…it just _couldn't_ be.

John closed his eyes in denial, praying that when he opened them again there would just be a marine giving him a funny look at his strange behaviour. He could handle that. But when he opened them again, all he could see was the disaster zone that had once been his home.

The Stargate winked out of life behind him, the sudden noise prompting him to move. He turned slowly on the spot to look out at the rest of the city. Or really, all that was left of it. At least four of the towers had collapsed, crushing the shorter buildings beneath them. Some parts were still on fire, churning out black smoke into the usually crisp sea air. The buildings that still stood were mere shells of their former selves, their windows missing and various walls blown out of existence.

How many people? Who? How much had he lost?

There came a sound – barely audible over the mournful wind. John forced his feet to co-operate, taking his reluctant form deeper into the chaos and towards the distinctly human sound. A survivor…_please_ be a survivor. He couldn't be alone. He couldn't be alone in the remains of his home – not now. The sound became a groan of pain, muffled by a layer of rubble. Female, familiar…could it…? John allowed himself to hope.

He identified the right pile of concrete, allowing his knees to give out as he staggered down next to it. He pushed his hands and arms into action, trying to convince himself that doing was better than dwelling on the hell he now found himself in. He dragged off stone after stone, callously throwing them behind him, ignoring the ominous moaning of the tower beneath him. He had to get to her…he had to know…he couldn't lose her – he just couldn't.

He caught sight of her tawny hair first, the hope he had cautiously nursed blossoming into desperate longing. He doubled his efforts, clearing the entirety of her upper body. He pressured his voice box into duty, managing to choke out a hoarse "Teyla!"

Delirious, pain filled eyes searched him out until they settled on his face. The corners of her bloodied lips twitched slightly in an imitation of a smile. "J-John…y-you made it…y-you c-came…"

"I promised you that I would," John whispered back. He forced his eyes to remain on her face. He couldn't look at the ragged wound on her chest, nor at the support beam that pinned her legs. He wasn't aware of the tears that were streaming down his cheeks – all that mattered was that he was there. He took her hand in his, squeezing it as reassuringly as he could. "I promised you that I would be here."

She stared at him with dimming eyes, her breath catching as she struggled for air. "Y-you are l-l-late…J-John…"

"I'm sorry, oh God, I am _so _ sorry…I tried…please…I'm sorry…" he clutched her hand to his chest, using his free hand to cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. Her breaths were coming few and far between, the light fading from her eyes. "Please…please don't leave me…I can't…please don't…please don't go…"

He was begging, but some logical part of him knew that it was pointless. There was nothing that either of them could do. Her glassy eyes stared sightlessly at the smoky sky above them, and something inside John broke. He lifted her up and hugged her limp form against him, sobbing openly as he felt his heart shatter to pieces.

She was gone. He was alone.

About halfway down the tower beneath him, the central support gave in. As he held her he was oblivious to the building collapsing. He ignored the sensation of defying gravity, ignored the terrifying drop. He didn't care. He just gripped a hold of her as if she were his only lifeline.

When the end finally came, he welcomed the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Two Weeks Post-Explosion: Earth: Stargate Command <strong>

Dr Rodney McKay studied the panel before him. This was the third time he had been called before them to explain, yet again, what had happened on Atlantis two weeks prior. Maybe he was using too-bigger words, or maybe what he was saying just didn't fit into the precise little report they had created to explain away the hellish day. Whatever the reason; repeating himself was getting old, and he let his tone tell them that.

"McKinley was pivotal in the resolution of the event. She proved adept at using Atlantis' systems and adapting to the Ancient tech, and was practically the co-ordinator of the plan that saved the majority of the expedition personnel," Rodney explained, uncharacteristically singing her praises. Truthfully, it had been his brilliant plan created by his quick thinking that saved the day, but he needed the short sighted IOA members to see that McKinley wasn't the one responsible – despite the evidence against her. "McKinley was the one to discover what it was we were up against, and I truly believe that without her things would have turned out a lot differently."

"It would seem so," the short, balding man at the far right of panel – Jim, James…Jameson? – replied curtly. "As far as I can see, if McKinley had not been present on Atlantis, the whole incident would never have happened."

"I'm not convinced that she is the one responsible…" McKay began to retort, but was interrupted again by the insufferable man.

"Did you not say in your report that her guilt was the most logical conclusion?" Jameson straightened a piece of paper on the desk before him as if to indicate said report. "Were you not the one to name McKinley as the culprit? I am confused – what is it that makes you now doubt your own deductions?"

Rodney glared at the man, but the smug bastard simply leaned back in his seat as if to watch a fish out of water. "At the time I wasn't entirely convinced, I was just presenting what the physical evidence seemed to dictate. _However_," he stressed the word heavily before Jameson could get in another comment, "having worked with McKinley during the…event…I felt that it was counterproductive for her to have assisted in the rescue of the city she had apparently set out to destroy."

"Is that you're only defence for Miss McKinley?" Jameson asked with faux sincerity. He turned to the rest of the panel who were watching the exchange with that strange professional distance with which the IOA seemed to approach everything. "Does that not seem weak to anyone else? The _physical_ evidence is undeniable and indisputable – and I believe McKinley's criminal record is enough of a character witness to dwarf Dr McKay's…_theory_."

"You seem rather eager for McKinley to be guilty," McKay didn't even bother to try and hide the accusation, and Jameson visibly bristled. "I realise the IOA likes to sweep these things under the rug nice and quickly, but I have to ask – what if you are _wrong_? What if McKinley didn't do it? Then that means there could be someone still out there that came _this close _to destroying Atlantis, and could very well try again. Have you thought of that?"

Jameson settled back in his seat, toning down his outspoken approach. "Of course, a full investigation is underway and every measure has been put in place in order to prevent a repeat of past events. Rest assured that Atlantis is safe now."

Rodney snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, that's comforting."

* * *

><p><strong>Two Weeks Post-Explosion: Atlantis: Infirmary <strong>

Teyla walked into the infirmary to find it in complete silence – a change from the recent activity following that day. Not a single bed was occupied and none of the usual staff were milling around. It was like a ghost town. She supposed she should be happy about the lack of injured present, but honestly she just found it creepy.

With Torren perched half-asleep on her hip she headed towards Dr Keller's office at the far end of the desolate room. With a quiet knock that echoed like a gunshot in the silence she stepped inside to find a bedraggled and tired doctor. "Hello, Jennifer."

"Teyla! You made me jump!" Jennifer swivelled in her seat in surprise and then melted into a warm smile when she saw Torren. "And you've brought my favourite patient. Is everything alright?"

"Ah…yes, I think so, but…" Teyla began, unconsciously patting Torren's back. Jennifer waited for her to choose her words, her smile turning to concern. "It is just that…I am probably being paranoid. Something about that…day…is bothering me. They deduced that it was the ATA gene that made John and the others immune, however as far as I can tell, Torren was not affected. I know about the assimilation process and that by the end the original host was meant to be erased…"

Jennifer nodded and stood up to get a better look at the small child. "I am certain that Torren was never infected with the _Alcoloniavarium_, but as to why I can't be sure. Everyone received a blood test after, including him, and there was absolutely no trace of it in his system. He is just a healthy, normal, little boy."

"I-I know…I just had to ask," Teyla responded, hugging Torren closer and placing a kiss on his head. "He just seemed a little different after, but then again, everyone seems different now."

"Ain't that the truth," Jennifer sank back into her chair with a sigh, gesturing at another for Teyla to take. "It's been so quiet without Rodney and Colonel Sheppard around…causing trouble. It's like the whole city has just come to a stop; no one's sure what to do anymore."

"The _Apollo_ is only a few days away from Earth; they will be back soon," Teyla replied. "Hopefully then things will return to normal." Teyla blinked when she found Jennifer then smiling at her knowingly. "What?"

"Something has finally happened between you and Colonel Sheppard, hasn't it?" Jennifer laughed at Teyla's surprised deer-in-headlights expression. "Your eyes light up whenever anyone talks about him, and I saw you both in the infirmary before he left. What happened?"

Teyla shrugged awkwardly, trying not to jog Torren's now sleeping form. "We…I…I got caught in a moment and well…I kissed him," Jennifer was practically beaming now, and Teyla shifted a little. She never had been comfortable discussing her private life with people, even her friends. "Kanaan…understood, and now I guess, I guess we are a couple."

"'Guess'?" Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

Teyla sighed heavily, remembering their last conversation before he left. "Afterwards, he avoided me as much as he could and I thought that maybe he didn't remember. And then I found out that he was going to Earth. He told me once that he hates going home; all he ever receives is bad news. But this time he _chose_ to go and I am not sure why. I think…it felt like he was running away."

"I guess I'm not one to give advice on relationships," Jennifer shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "It took me so long to choose between Ronon and Rodney that I was actually kinda cruel to them both. I'm surprised Ronon even spoke to me again afterwards…not that he ever really talks…especially not now." She glanced almost longingly at the empty infirmary through the open door. "I'm really worried about him – I haven't seen him since the memorial. Usually he's in here every other day with a sparring injury, but recently…"

"He won't spar with the marines anymore," Teyla replied quietly. "He never told me why, but I think it is because he does not want to be responsible for any more harm. I tried to talk to him, to tell him that it was not his fault, but even to my own ears they felt like empty words."

Jennifer nodded, her eyes briefly straying to a file on her desk – Beckett's report, the one that vaguely described the experiment in the brig. "Logically, I _know_ that it wasn't me who did those things, but that doesn't change the fact that they happened and it was _my hand_ that did them. I've tried to move on, but I can't."

"Eventually we will all find a way to live with what happened, but until then…"

* * *

><p><strong>Four Days Post-Explosion: Earth: Sgt Walters' Residence <strong>

The black car cut through the neatly manicured front lawns of suburbia like a death omen. Fitting, really, considering what the driver was bringing to a perfectly normal family. Major Evan Lorne piloted the dark SUV around a final bend, trying to ignore the growing sensation of dread, guilt and misery that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach - on top of all that which had been there ever since that day. He came to a stop before one house that was identical to every other, put the car in park, and then took a readying breath.

He climbed out and into a deceptively sunny day, his aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. He straightened his dress blues that he had chosen to wear, and then made the short walk from car to front door. Surrounded by grass, it felt uncomfortably like the green mile – a connection both apt and inappropriate at the same time. With another sigh, the removal of his shades, and a quick nervous check of his uniform, he gave the door a gentle rap.

When Mrs Alice Walters opened the door, she took one look at Lorne, and she knew.

"Oh God…please no…" she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. She just about managed to stay on her feet, but it was clear that her knees were weak. Lorne placed a hand on her shoulder for both physical and emotional support. "Please…not my Henry…"

"Mommy? Who is it? Is daddy home?" a small boy wandered up to the front door, no more than seven or eight years old. He tugged on the end of his mother's shirt. "Mommy, what's wrong?"

Alice quickly wiped at the tears that had fallen and pasted on what was meant to have been a reassuring smile. She took the boy by the shoulders and turned him round, giving him a gentle nudge back to where he came. "It's nothing Mikey; go play for a while Mommy talks to the man. That's a good boy."

Lorne watched the exchange, the guilt he had been expecting from seeing Walters' wife face to face being dwarfed by the reality. This was _his_ fault. He was the one who had stolen her husband. He had stolen the father of her child. One mistake, and he had caused all of this heartache. For a moment he was speechless, and could do nothing but watch as she closed the door behind her and came to stand with him on the porch. Gradually, he got his mouth to work, his voice coming out hoarse. "I am so sorry."

She nodded, chewing her lip, restraining the urge to scream and cry and hit something. Instead she brushed away another tear and stared without seeing over his shoulder. "Wh-what happened to him?"

"Truthfully, the events surrounding your husband's death are classified…" Lorne began, sounding far more formal than he had hoped. He saw the irritated look cross Alice's face and turn her misery into a flare of anger. "…but I feel you deserve to know as much of the truth as possible. We served together, Henry and I, before this assignment…he was a friend."

"I told him not to go," Alice announced suddenly, meeting his eyes for an instant before taking to staring at her shoes. "Before, when he was offered the assignment, he told me all he could about it. That it was further than he'd ever been before, that communication would be difficult and that everything he did or saw would be top secret. I told him that I didn't like it…I told him not to go…"

Lorne nodded, unsure of what else he could do. "I still can't tell you where he was; or what it was he was doing, but I can tell you that there was an incident on the base. There was an…attack…from within and in the confusion that followed there were several friendly fire accidents…"

Alice looked up then, confusion marring her features. "I don't understand…he was killed by another soldier? One of ours? Who?"

"Mrs Walters, that is why I am here…to be the one to tell you…" Lorne explained guiltily, watching as realisation dawned on her face. "I am truly sorry…I didn't mean to…I never intended…I…I killed him."

She looked at him in shock for a moment, and then her face cycled through a series of emotions – horror, agony, anger – until she settled on hatred. Her voice dripped with venom, and she glared at him with a stare that promised retribution. "Leave."

"I-I'm sorry…"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she shrieked, batting away the hand that he reached towards her. Horrified, Lorne stumbled a few steps back, and could do nothing but stand there, aghast, as she turned heel and ran back into the house.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting – he knew that forgiveness was out of the question, that understanding was a tall order. But he hadn't been expecting the pure hatred she had lashed at him with, even if he was all too aware that it was what he deserved. A part of him had been hoping that being the one to tell her would somehow alleviate the weight on his chest, but all it had done was make him feel a thousand times worse.

After a moment, he managed to get his feet to obey and carry him back to the ominous black car.

* * *

><p><strong>Six Months Earlier: Earth: Lt. Matthews' Residence <strong>

Jessica Matthews felt the usual apprehension she felt whenever she came to visit her brother. And it wasn't just the neighbourhood and the way that everyone seemed suspicious, staring at her cleanliness. It wasn't the fact that she knew that once she stepped through the door she would find a gag-inducing mess. No, it wasn't any of that; it was the fact that she knew that she would find her brother in an even worse state than she had left him. One day she knew that she would open the door to find that he had succeeded in his task to drink himself to death.

At the top of the stairs, she took a final breath of (clean) air, and slid the key into the lock. Unoiled hinges squealed and she was unsurprised to find herself in a hellhole. The flat was tiny; literally a box with a kitchenette and living room, a bed hidden behind a screen and a bathroom. Saying it was a mess was an understatement; the floor was littered with empty bottles and discarded food packets - and the _smell_... In the middle of the room in a chair facing a broken TV set, sat Ben Matthews, a former First Lieutenant of the United States Air Force. Or at least a shell of what that man had once been.

He wasn't moving, and for a horrifying moment, Jessica thought the day had finally come. "Ben?"

Unintentionally, she let the door slam behind her, eliciting a surprised jump from her practically catatonic brother. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then immediately set about to nagging. "God, this place is disgusting. When was the last time you…did _anything_? I told you that Dad was coming round – did you even notice he was here? Huh? Jesus, Ben."

He gave her no response, he just continued to stare at the cracked TV screen. Now that he was on planet Earth, or as close as he ever seemed to get, he returned to his usual activity of taking regular gulps from a glass bottle. She had no idea where he was getting the alcohol from – she never brought it, and as far as she could tell he never left that damned chair.

She began tidying up her immediate vicinity, continuing to natter on about his awful living arrangements, but quickly stopped when she realised her efforts weren't even making a dent in the grime. "Well now Mom's coming to see you – remember her? The one that was so proud of you for joining the Air Force? I don't want her to see you like this…it will…it will break her. So, we're going to get cleaned up, aren't we?" She came up beside him and plucked the bottle from his hand. "And we'll start with this, shall we?"

Surprisingly, he allowed her to take it with minimal resistance, and she turned into the kitchenette to pour the remainder of its contents down the sink. Or really, all over the dishes piled high in the sink that were blocking the plughole. "See, was that so hard, huh?"

She turned around to find him sucking on a new bottle that she didn't even want to know where he had been hiding. "Oh for God's sake Ben! What the hell happened to you!"

"I screwed up."

"You can say that again," Jessica interrupted before realising that this was the first time she had heard her brother speak in over six visits. She instantly forgot what she had been doing and came to crouch beside the chair. She looked into her brother's tired face, and for the first time she saw an echo of the Ben she had once known. "What happened?"

He didn't look at her, gesturing with the already half empty bottle at an audience behind her right shoulder. "I had it good, real good. Man, the things I saw – the places I went. A whole different galaxy!" Jessica assumed he was talking metaphorically there. "I actually _liked_ my CO, despite all the rumours that he had killed his predecessor…" that word came out incredibly slurred and almost indecipherable "…in order to get the position. But then I screwed up…"

…And stopped making any sense. He spoke of something called a 'Stargate' that allowed people to travel not only to other planets but to a whole other galaxy where the legendary city of Atlantis _actually_ existed. Jessica didn't believe any of it; she was just surprised that the alcohol had turned her sceptic brother into a sci-fi nerd.

"D'you still work at the IOA?" he asked once he had described in remarkable detail the grand architecture of this supposed Atlantis. Jessica was taken aback that he remembered her day job, and it took her a moment to nod her reply. "They know the truth. They're in charge of the programme. Just wait till you get promoted – then they'll tell you, and then you'll believe me."

Jessica knew that the International Oversight Advisory had been set up as a way to monitor assets that were simply too big for one nation to control. She guessed that a 'Stargate' would come under that jurisdiction; but that was just preposterous. Even if it _were_ possible – they'd never be able to keep it a secret.

No, she didn't believe a word of it. Yet.

* * *

><p><strong>And that was the beginning of <strong>_**The Vendetta**_** – pretty please let me know what you think!**


	2. Scapegoat

**Stargate Atlantis -:- The Vendetta**

**Author's Note(s):**

Thanks for the reviews as always - glad everyone is liking so far! Just a quick note to nacimynom, I re-read that little bit after your comment and figured that you were right, but for the sake of not wanting to rewrite that scene last chap I'm gonna say that Lorne decided to go it alone, and Sheppard had other families to see… Hope that's not too much like cheating :P

And also – that is not the only mistake… Last chap Teyla mentioned that the _Daedalus_ was heading to Earth, but I got my ships backwards. The _Apollo_ is heading to Earth, and the _Daedalus_ is above Atlantis as Caldwell is the acting Military Commander of the city while our boys are Earth-side. I have corrected it now, but I thought I'd point it out lol

There were probably more, but I haven't caught them yet so we'll leave them be :P Just as a little added extra I've added some Romelia as well as the Sheyla; but I'm not a shipper writer so it's not the focus of the fic

But anyway - Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Two -:- Scapegoat<strong>

**Five Days Post-Explosion: Earth: Fletcher Residence **

The tiny house was tucked between two huge apartment buildings; as stubborn as its owner had been when the demolition crew had come and then given up. Inside it was quirky, decorated in an old fashioned style with mismatched furniture crammed into the small space. In the front room, Carson found himself sitting on a sofa with a coffee table pushed against his knees. Opposite him sat Sinead Fletcher. "So…you knew my s-sister?"

"Not that well," Carson admitted, unintentionally shifting to his bedside manner voice. He put down the cup of tea that she had made for him; hers was still sitting on the coffee table completely untouched. "But I was with her…at the end."

Sinead was wringing her hands, twisting a handkerchief around her fingers absentmindedly. The room settled into silence for a moment, and then she forced herself to speak. It was as if she had switched to autopilot, simply asking the questions while she tried to internally sort herself out. Carson had seen it done enough times; had actually done it himself. "W-what happened t-to her? D-did she su-su…"

"A lot of what happened is classified," Carson interrupted her struggle over the word 'suffer'. He inwardly cringed at his reply – he'd never had to tell a patient's family that their cause of death was _classified_ before he had been contracted with the Air Force. "But I will tell you what I can. There was an incident on the base that we were working on, and Dr Fletcher…Rowan, was infected with a pathogen. There were several of us, trapped, and we did all that we could but…"

"It must have been horrible," Sinead muttered after a short gasp of shock. Carson watched as she pictured her sister's last moments, her imagination filling in the gaps of the story. He wondered if what she was coming up with was worse than the reality – if there even _was_ anything worse. She was crying anew then, but she didn't notice until a tear dripped off her chin and she dabbed at her cheeks.

"It was," Carson barely whispered, but Sinead still heard and for a moment just stared into his eyes as if she could read his mind. He shifted a little, banging his kneecaps on the table, and then cleared his throat. "But that wasn't what she said. She and another man, Dr Bruno Arrighetti, were going through the same…thing, and it was then that they realised that they loved each other." Carson almost gave a bittersweet smile then, but it faltered. "Rowan told me to tell you that at the end, she was happy."

Sinead let out a sob then, burying her face in the handkerchief. Carson stood up and came round to sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she rocked back and forth. He tried to ignore the flashbacks he was getting of doing the same to her sister as she was caught in her death throes, but before he knew it he was there again, and tears began to fall down his own cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>Five Days Post-Explosion: Earth: Miller Residence <strong>

Rodney McKay waited patiently at his sister's red front door; a bouquet for her and a cuddly toy for Madison hidden behind his back. He was getting the hang of this whole 'being a good brother/uncle' thing. After a few moments the door opened, and he was internally pleased to find his sister smiling when she saw him. It was a far cry from a few years before when he had been greeted with barely contained hostility. "Meredith! I wondered when you'd get here."

Rodney blinked at that, and then pushed forward and proffered her the flowers. "And a hello to you to, Jeannie, is Madison around?"

"Uncle Meredith!" Came the six year old little blonde girl that happened to be his niece. She certainly knew her cue – either that, or she could sense the possibility of getting a new toy. She wrapped herself around his kneecaps and looked up at him expectantly. "Did you bring me something?"

Jeannie laughed at that and even Rodney had to smile. She was just like her mother in the way that she knew how to get what she wanted. "You mean…" he revealed the fluffy bunny. "…something like this?"

"Cool!" she grabbed a hold of the stuffed animal with a beaming smile that revealed a missing front tooth, and then turned and ran off. Rodney barely heard her comment of "I'll put it with Mr Colonel's teddy!" He passed his sister a confused look, which made her smile widen. She gestured in the direction of the living room and he immediately marched off.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded upon seeing Lt. Col. John Sheppard sitting on his sister's sofa looking very relaxed, and just a little bit smug. Nearby, Madison was arranging her two new toys on top of the coffee table, the fluffy bunny paling in comparison to a big brown bear. Jeannie appeared by his shoulder as Sheppard just shrugged casually.

"I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by," he said nonchalantly. Jeannie gave Rodney a poke in the back then, shoving him unceremoniously towards the sofa where he plonked down next to Sheppard. Jeannie took the armchair, and then pushed a plate of biscuits towards him. It was annoying that she knew she could buy his co-operation with sugar. "I thought you were at the IOA giving your deposition?"

Rodney bristled at that, his annoyance from being in a room with the damn panel for only an hour rising to the surface. "Don't get me started on that row of idiotic, paper-pushing, clueless excuses for intelligent people. Seriously, if I simplified the explanation of the virus down any further a bovine would be able to understand and yet they look at me like _I'm_ the one without several degrees in various subjects that they wouldn't even be able to spell!"

He paused in his tirade to find Sheppard and Jeannie sharing a knowing look. Since when were they best buddies? "What?" he demanded, but didn't wait for an answer. "What are you even doing here? Aren't you supposed to be doing the condolence rounds with Lorne?"

"Meredith!" Jeannie chastised in shock, making Madison look up at her as if she had been the one to do something wrong. It was not comforting to know that she used the same tone with him as she did her six year old daughter.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows at him. "I've done all the 'rounds' as you so tactfully called them, Rodney." He glanced away for a second, but Rodney just caught a crack in the mask that was Sheppard and had the decency to look contrite. "Lorne dropped me off here before he went to see Sargent Walters' wife."

"John was just telling me what happened," Jeannie added with a concerned glare at the pair of them. Rodney hoped that Sheppard hadn't given her too many of the details; he figured she worried enough as it was. But then again, one glance at John in his still healing state probably painted enough of a picture for her. "To think that someone would do that on purpose…what are they going to do with this McKinley person?"

"McKinley didn't do it," Rodney stated, and both of them gave him another funny look.

"But you said…"

"I _know_ what I said," he interrupted Sheppard a little too forcefully. He was still in the frame of mind he needed to deal with the IOA board but he adjusted his tone for when he continued. He knew that John was still having memory problems, even if he wasn't admitting it. Having the facts changed was probably confusing for someone relying on second-hand accounts. "But I think I might have been…a little too quick to judge. I'm almost definitely sure that she wasn't the one who did it."

"So who did?" Jeannie asked. "Do you think they'll try again?"

Rodney shrugged. The thought had occurred to him, and it wasn't a nice one. They had come so close to destroying Atlantis only a few days ago. Would a failed attempt really dissuade someone who had worked so hard to not try again? Most likely not, and that meant that the city, their home, was in danger. He shared a look with Sheppard, both of them thinking the same thing. "The IOA has promised an investigation, but they're pretty sure that they've already caught the culprit."

"I'll look into it and call Atlantis to let them know of the threat," Sheppard said, clearly disconcerted. He looked about ready to spring into action, head wound, sling-bound arm and all, at the very idea of his home being threatened. "The _Apollo _is a few weeks out, we should be home in just over a month."

Let's just hope that isn't too late.

* * *

><p><strong>Two Weeks Post-Explosion: Atlantis: Holding Cells <strong>

"I thought I'd find you here."

Ronon looked up in surprise to find Amelia standing by the open door of the cell. He was sat in the far corner, his back against the column as he stared at the bloodstains on the floor. This was where it had happened. This was where he had assisted in the experiment on five people, resulting in the death of two. And that was _after_ he had beaten Sheppard to within an inch of his life.

"It wasn't you." Amelia stated as if she were reading his thoughts. He guessed they weren't all that difficult to figure out; they had been stuck in the same cycle ever since that day a little over two weeks ago. This wasn't the first time she had tried to talk to him either, nor was she the only one to have made the attempt. Usually he just tried to avoid them and that same conversation they all insisted on having, but right then he couldn't find the strength to move. He, Ronon the Warrior, was weak.

Amelia sighed, and for a moment he believed that she had given up as he had. But then she was beside him, her arm wrapped around his as she leaned her head against her shoulder. Part of him wanted to pull away for her own sake – he was a monster that didn't deserve her. The rest of him was glad for the human contact, especially from her. She was warm and he was cold. She was light and he was dark. Her lips by his ear, she whispered "Can you expect forgiveness from others when you cannot forgive yourself?"

Ronon thought about that. Is that what he wanted? Forgiveness? Was he waiting for Beckett to come back and tell him that what happened was understandable? Did he think that Sheppard was holding a grudge and would disown him? Did he think that the two people he had had a hand in killing would somehow tell him that they didn't mind? Is that what he was waiting for?

"What I did was unforgivable," Ronon muttered, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Amelia looked up at him then "Even if it was out of your control?" He nodded, and she sighed again, burying her face into his shoulder. "You're not the only one that did bad things, Ronon. Do you think that everyone should be brooding like you are? Will that really help everyone move on after this? Things are different now. Everyone's different. I want things the way they were – starting with you."

"I can't just…"

"For me you can," she whispered with a smile, and then placed a kiss on his cheek. With that the weight on Ronon's shoulders lifted just a little, and he found himself giving her knee a reassuring squeeze. "We are going to get over this. Together."

* * *

><p><strong>Five Months Earlier: Earth: IOA North America Branch <strong>

"Jessica, sweetie, I heard about your brother," some blonde office woman whom Jessica supposed she really should know the name of cooed insincerely. "I am so sorry for your loss."

They're all sorry. Everyone is always sorry. What an empty word. Since when did being 'sorry' change anything? Since when did that somehow make things okay? That's what she wanted to yell at the top of her voice, right in the woman's face, but she didn't. Instead she just nodded and gave an insincere smile back, and then turned back to her computer.

It had only been a few days since she had shown up at her brother's apartment to find him just where she left him, only this time without a pulse. At first she had hated herself for the almost relief of knowing that she didn't have to look after him anymore, and then she had just gotten angry. At everything. There wasn't a thing in her own apartment that wasn't broken from one of her raves. In some ways, the tiny flat now looked a bit like his – and that made everything worse.

No one understood. No one cared. No one was _really_ sorry. And that made her blood boil.

But this was all beneath the surface. To the outside world she was calm, collected, and taking her brother's suicide incredibly well. She had only taken a single day off work for bereavement, and then she was back at her computer, doing her job.

She worked at the North American branch of International Oversight Advisory as a low level analyst. That's what a three-year college degree in Computer Science and a lifetime of debt had earned her. Her security clearance was non-existent and the majority of the files she was supposedly 'analysing' were blacked out short of a few words or numbers. It had never bothered her before, she had just been glad for a way to at least make a dent in that debt, but after that night in Ben's apartment it just wasn't enough anymore.

The higher-ups were hiding something. She doubted it was the fantastical Stargate or the lost city of Atlantis, but it was something. And it had something to do with why her brother spiralled the way he did. It was what had stolen Ben away from her long before he had taken his life.

And so, it was as she sat at her computer in a busy office surrounded by co-workers forwardly offering condolences while quietly discussing her behind her back that she began to dig.

She missed her coffee break and her lunch break, and very nearly forgot about home time as well, her mind entirely focused on the square screen before her. All the time she grew more and more frustrated; just when she thought she was getting somewhere she would be blocked by massive walls of double encryption code and security that rivalled the Pentagon's. Sure, she was smart, had done a bit of hacking in her spare time and could probably, eventually, break through. But she was clever as well, and she knew that doing that would lead the men in black straight to her. What she needed was a scapegoat.

At five minutes to five the office was already emptying around her. She shut down the multitude of windows she had accumulated in her search and opened up her email account. There she found the name and address of an old friend.

There she found her hacker.

* * *

><p><strong>Two Weeks Post-Explosion: Earth: IOA North America Branch <strong>

The IOA didn't really have cells for their detainees. Then again, they didn't usually have detainees. They were always dealt with by the SGC. But that was then the culprit was cut and dry; literally caught with their fingers on the trigger. But with Miranda McKinley it had been agreed that an investigation would be undertaken, and at least on paper, she was innocent until proven guilty.

That was why she found herself living in a board room. For her convenience she had a long table surrounded by twenty posh leather chairs, a vase of dying flowers and a dry/erase board (but no marker pens, apparently they're dangerous…). The windows were reinforced and didn't open, and even if they did she was at least thirty floors off the ground. They were tinted black to try and make the room more cell-like. In the corner someone had thought to bring her a cot to sleep on, and she had a guard at the door to take her to the bathroom whenever she so desired.

Considering that she had spent time in a real cell, Miranda was just grateful for what she had.

And as to her situation, she had settled on the stage of acceptance of her false accusation. It wasn't the first time, and she strongly suspected that it wouldn't be the last either. Two weeks had passed since Lorne had come to tell her that she was going to Earth pending a full IOA investigation, and she had yet to hear anything from anyone. No visitors, none of these investigators, not even a lawyer had made itself known. She had just been left to stew in the board-room-cell as if someone hoped that doing so would make her want to confess.

She was going stir crazy. Surely they could have at least given her a book to read.

It might have been just after lunch that she had her first visitor, it was difficult to tell with the blacked out windows. She was sitting at the head of the table with the entire contents of the flower vase spread out before her. She was arranging them in sequence of deadness, in ascending order. She jumped to her feet when the door opened, flowers forgotten, simply glad to have something different happening. Two men in black suits and sunglasses entered, standing side by side as the door was closed again behind them.

"Miss Miranda McKinley," the dark-haired one on the right greeted. Neither made any move to remove their shades despite the darkness of the room. "I am Agent Walker, this is Agent Jones. We are with the IOA and will be investigating your case. Would you mind answering some questions?"

Great. Her future was in the hands of Men in Black wannabes. "Sure, why not. My schedule is open until 2 o'clock when I'm arranging the chairs into a conga line."

The suits didn't react to her almost-joke (there was some truth to it after all) and just remained standing at the opposite end of the long table. The fair-haired one, Jones, pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket, the sound of him turning the pages the only thing that broke the silence. "Miss McKinley, were you on Atlantis on the 12th June at 10.23am?"

Miranda nodded slowly. "Yes."

"At this time," Walker picked up. "Did you, or did you not upload a computer virus into the city's main system with the intention of creating an explosion that would destroy the entire city?"

"I did not."

Jones noted that answer down in his notebook as if it were some massive chunk of intel. Seriously, who were these amateurs? She might as well hang herself now if this was her detective duo. There was silence again until Jones had finished writing, and then he asked "Do you, or do you not have a criminal record for cyber terrorism?"

"I do," Miranda ground her teeth a little. All this was in her file – the IOA were the ones who had done her security check before she had been allowed anywhere near the _Apollo_ and Atlantis. "But I was falsely accused then as well and my case was thrown out after an appeal due to the complete lack of evidence. Because I didn't do it."

The suits studied her behind their shades, and for a moment she thought they might have heard her. "Look, I don't know who you guys think you are, but it's clear to me that you're going about this all wrong. I can tell you all sorts of leads you could be following like, like…the virus. It was a prototype I made for the cyber-terrorist unit of Homeland Security. Maybe you should go…"

"We will investigate the leads that we find and deem viable," Walker interrupted, and Miranda felt her heart sink. "Now. Do you, or do you not have a brother…"

Miranda smacked her head back into the chair and sighed heavily. She was totally screwed.

* * *

><p><strong>Five Months Earlier: Earth: Macy's Café <strong>

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Jessica smiled as Miranda McKinley took the seat opposite her in the booth. She glanced around at the café, once again checking that no one was paying them any special attention. Miranda followed her line of sight with raised eyebrows and Jessica shrugged. "Sorry about all the cloak and dagger stuff, I just…I'm probably being paranoid, but I think this is big."

"I figured you were speaking in some sort of code in the e-mail," Miranda sank back into the seat and began perusing the menu. "Didn't understand a word of it, but it got me interested. Dare I ask who the 'Big Cheese' and its friend 'Blue Wings' are?"

Jessica gave her head a little shake with a short breath of laughter at her code, and then her eyes were scanning the tiny retro café again. She had chosen it because it was just busy enough that they weren't overhead but wasn't so crowded that people were practically on top of them. The waitress came over and took their order and then left them alone. "I don't know if you heard about my brother."

"I don't get out much," Miranda admitted taking a sip of water. "Is he the one that was in the Air Force? Or was that Diane's sister? I never have been good at remembering these things."

"He was in the Air Force up until a few months ago when he got dishonourably discharged," Jessica explained, staring down at her own glass. "He took it pretty hard. He didn't know what to do without it so he did nothing. A week ago he committed suicide."

Miranda sat up a little straighter then, her face taking on the shocked, sympathetic expression that everyone gave her when they heard. She didn't quite know what to say, so Jessica intervened before she fell back on an empty 'sorry'. "Before he died he told me about something called the 'Stargate Program' which he used to work for. I admit, most of what he said was the alcohol talking, but I know that he wasn't lying about some of it. The Air Force has got some highly classified project going on that my brother was a part of."

"I hate to break this to you," Miranda half-smiled, probably just glad that they hadn't hovered on her brother's death for too long. "But the Air Force has several classified, top secret projects going on, it's kinda what they do…"

"It's bigger than that," Jessica interrupted, a little louder than she had intended. The waitress chose that moment to arrive with their food, placing two rather wilted looking salads in front of them. She waited until she was gone before she continued; her voice significantly quieter. "It's a lot bigger than that. I work for the IOA, you heard of it?" Miranda shrugged. "Well, it's a multinational company that oversees assets and projects etc. that are too powerful for one country to be in control of. Whatever the Air Force is doing, the IOA are overseeing it. That's how big it is."

Miranda let out an appreciative whistle and then stabbed at her salad. "So, what you're saying is that your bosses are working with the Air Force on some super-secret program codename 'Stargate'? It's got to be something to do with space. You reckon they got a man on Mars or something?"

"I think it's even bigger than that," Jessica replied, remembering her brother's awed expression as he had spoken of a legendary city in another galaxy. She leaned back in her seat, trying to act nonchalant. "So, hypothetically, _if_ I wanted to find out more, maybe get myself some concrete evidence…"

"Hypothetically?" Miranda smiled, catching on quick. "Well, you'd probably need to hack into some pretty secure networks. The Air Force would be a good target, or maybe even the IOA servers. _Hypothetically_, of course."

"Okay, so in theory," Jessica started leaning forward. "Could I count on your help?"

"You mean; risk losing my boring-ass 9-5 and going back to prison in order to unearth some massive secret that the Air Force might be hiding?" Miranda retorted, and for a moment, Jessica thought that she had lost her as an accomplice. But then she shrugged and grinned broadly. "At least this time I would have actually committed the crime. Why not?"

Now Jessica was grinning to, from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Cause now, Jessica had her scapegoat.

* * *

><p><strong>And the pieces are beginning to fall into place… dun, dun, duh! Please let me know what you think - I love hearing your opinions and stealing potential plot ideas :P<strong>

**Also, just a little by-the-by; Endgame chapter 9 is being started tomorrow after work – it should be up by Thursday! See you then! (Or this fics next chapter…depending on what your reading lol) **


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